


In Forty-Nine Hours

by xevinx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: ...and then more, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering, M/M, Rest stops and shitty motels, Sass, budding friendship, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xevinx/pseuds/xevinx
Summary: Will Graham and Frederick Chilton haven't spoken to each other since the latter was wrongfully arrested at the former's house. But unforeseen circumstances lead to them being forced to spend two days in the same car on a cross-country drive to a conference.It was never going to go smoothly.





	1. Maryland & Pennsylvania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is probably going to be absolute trash but it's been fun to work on so here we go!

Of all the people that Will _wouldn’t_ have wanted to find himself on a road trip with, Frederick Chilton probably placed near the top of the metaphorical list.

And yet there they were.

"I had no idea what I was going to do, how on Earth I was going to get to the conference. So, uh, thank you, I suppose."

The two former acquaintances had bumped into each other at a terminal at Baltimore/Washington International Airport, both with failed intentions to have boarded the very same flight that had been cancelled. Cabin crew strikes across the country meant that the next available flight to Denver from any airport in the vicinity was three days away. Which would have been too late. 

Graham was still on medication that forbade him from operating heavy machinery, so there'd be no driving for him. He had ultimately helped law enforcement catch Hannibal Lecter, but not without being seriously injured himself. Lecter was caught red-handed, figuratively  _and_ literally.

Because of that, Will was potentially facing the prospect of many consecutive ten hour bus rides which was even worse than the thought of spending as many hours in the company of his  _other_  former psychiatrist, Frederick Chilton.

It was the only logical solution. 

So he found himself in the situation where a four hour flight had been converted to a 24 hour car journey, predicted to be much longer with rest stops. It was going to be tedious at best and wholly unbearable at worst.

Pulling out of the city and getting onto the highway required some concentration on Frederick's part, but once they were out on the long road with miles and miles stretched out before them, the silence in the car quickly grew deafening.

Eventually, Frederick was compelled to break it.

"Are we going to sit here in perfect silence through the whole ride or is one of us actually going to say something?"

"You just did."

"Ha, ha." More silence. "You really are proving to be fantastic company, Will."

"As are you, Frederick," Graham deadpanned in return, gaze fixed on scanning the plains on the other side of the window. There wasn't very much in the way of outside views for him to occupy his vision with — only sparse, flat farmland stretching out as far as the eye could see.

"Well," said Chilton a little too loudly, "I cannot stand such pervasive silence, so..."

He made a point of turning the car radio on and scanning through frequencies until he found a reasonable music station. It worked — until the station cut out because they were so far away from the city. Chilton had been right, Will realised — they had to start talking at some point. Dozens of hours of silence simply wasn't feasible, as much as he wished it would be.

"I was surprised to see you there." Frederick offered a starting point for conversation and Will took the bait reluctantly. 

"At the airport?"

"Yes, on your way to Denver. I assumed you would have wanted to wash your hands of the whole Hannibal Lecter matter as soon as you could."

"I do. Speaking at the conference is a part of gaining closure."

Planning his talk had been oddly cathartic for Will, the opportunity to detach himself from Hannibal and the twisted situation he had been pulled into, in exchange for a more impartial and professional assessment of the man.

"To each their own," said Frederick nonchalantly.

"So what might be your intentions behind giving a talk about him?"

Frederick took a few moments to find and phrase his words correctly. "My intentions are to drag whatever might be left of his once formidable reputation right through the mud."

"I see."

"Hannibal Lecter has been built up to be this legend of sorts, almost superhuman in his morbid achievements. He is _not_ this enigma that people such as Freddie Lounds and Jack Crawford paint him to be. At the crux of it he is a sad, lonely, _pathetic_ man."

Will kept his lips pursed and hence his mouth shut about any projection that could have been going on there. Being thrown out of the car onto the side of the Interstate wouldn't have done him any good. Besides, he agreed with Frederick in a way, even if he didn't voice that either. Hannibal Lecter was a man, not a monster, and flawed just as any other human.

"You didn't want your job back?" he asked instead. "Or did they not take you back?"

A scowl flashed across Chilton's face. It was only restricted a flash because he consciously willed it away.

"I am _moving on_. I plan to set up a private practice while I write on the side."

"Write about...?"

"Interesting patients that I have had under my care during my time at the Baltimore State Hospital."

Just like that, the wind was suddenly knocked out of Will's chest. "Does that include... me?" he murmured.

"Of course not." Frederick took his sweet time before continuing, inwardly debating whether or not to say the words that he ultimately did. "You're not that interesting."

Although for the most part glad to not be seen as being of particular interest, there was a tiny part of Graham that was almost offended at the revelation.

"Good to know," he muttered out, shaking his head a touch in exasperation and pointedly turning away from Chilton to look out of the window.

In the moments of silence that followed, Frederick felt an unexpected and strange urge to elaborate.

"It is a hospital for the _criminally insane_ and you — were neither of the two."

"Right."

That was the closest thing to an apology that Will would ever have expected from Chilton.

Silence filled the space between them once again and Will, for one, was more than happy to let it. But time spent thinking unfortunately led him down a path to certain thoughts that he would much rather have avoided.

He still carried a great deal of remorse, that went without saying, for all the many, many horrible things that had happened to those adjacent to him. Buried among that there was a specific pain that stemmed directly from what had happened to Chilton when Will had turned him in for crimes he knew full well that he was innocent of.

Until this day, they'd had no direct contact since Hannibal Lecter's capture — hell, since _Chilton's_ capture — with the exception of the occasional nod of acknowledgment across the courtroom during Lecter's lengthy trial.

...And the visits that Will had made to the hospital after Chilton had been arrested and shot. Frederick didn't exactly know about those. During his weeks spent in a medically-induced coma, Will had visited him often, hoping wholeheartedly for his recovery. With Hannibal still free and scrutinising him closely, Will had been sure to leave no trace of his visits, sneaking into the hospital on evenings when one of the agents he knew was guarding and was the only person in the vicinity of Frederick's room.

Guilt was the immortal weight of an anvil on his chest, and yet there had been something oddly comforting about being in a sedated Chilton's presence, hearing the _beep-beep-beep_ of his heartbeat monitor as a perfect, enduring example of resilience. The memory of that time spurred Will to consider making a bit of an effort at mending bridges. Although technically, if formed, this would be a bridge that hadn't even existed in any capacity before.

"So... are you still living in Baltimore, then?" 

Frederick shot a curious glance in Will's direction before answering, somewhat shaken by the fact that the other man was apparently choosing to engage him in conversation.

"I am not, I fancied myself a change of scenery," he finally answered.

_I couldn’t go back to my house. The blood was practically soaked through the walls._

It took little to no effort for Will to read between the lines but he chose not to venture down that particular path with the conversation; a plethora of his own demons lay in that direction too.

"You can't be too far if you were flying out of Baltimore/Washington."

"I live in a suburb of D.C., McLean."

"Oh."

With that, the usually rather predictable Chilton genuinely shocked Will. McLean was an affluent neighborhood, full of opulent houses, many of which approached mansions. That reconciled with his view of the doctor well.

But McLean was also woodsy, green and above all, rather quaint. In Graham's mind — and he suspected probably that of anyone who had ever met Chilton — abrasive Frederick Chilton and quaintness went together like chalk and cheese.

"I drive through McLean all the time," he admitted when he gathered his composure again, "it's only six or seven miles away from me in Wolf Trap."

"Right, I suppose it is."

"Do you like it there?"

"Being out of the city proper took some time for me to adjust to, _obviously_ , but it is a perfectly pleasant neighbourhood. I have grown to appreciate the quiet."

"I think it goes without saying that I can understand that sentiment."

After all, that was one of the things that Will loved most about living out in the wilderness. Standing in a stream with his line cast and hearing nothing but the gentle babbling of the water passing him. Walking through the woods early in the morning with nothing but the sound of leaves crunching under his feet as the rising sun filtered through the trees.

"You enjoy peace and _quiet?_ " said Frederick in an almost accusatory tone. "From what I recall, your pack of hell hounds are certainly not conducive to that."

" _Hell hounds?_ That's not a fair observation, you got them all... _curious_ when you showed up to the house covered in — _uh,_ we don't have to talk about that."

"How thoughtful of you."

That served to put a nice end to the conversation, nipping it right in its barely existent bud.

Oh, this was going to be a long, long drive.

* * * * *

"Could you have a look in the glovebox for me?"

"For what?"

"Music. There should be some CDs in there somewhere."

Despite a thorough search, all that Will could find was a single CD marked _‘Bach’_ in an unmarked case.

Thirty minutes in, unsure when each piece had ended and the next begun, Will had to do something. Yes, the music all sounded the same to him, monotonous and boring, but that was far from the worst thing about it.

"I hate this classical music. It's dull, and your insistence on listening to it is blatantly based in pretentiousness."

"How is it _my_ fault that _you_ are so uncultured?"

"How elitist of you. I swear, I genuinely feel as though I've been transported back to his goddamn dining room, listening to this."

There was no need to specify who he meant by that. Frederick sighed deeply, not particularly disposed to arguing with that comparison.

"There is — there might be a box of old CDs under your seat, if you really cannot stand this."

"Thank God."

Will searched the box out and began to rummage through it in search of something that, at the very least, wouldn't assault his ears.

"Oh, you've got some mixes here."

Frederick threw him a worried glance and tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Uh, those are very old. Terrible old 70s and 80s songs and... so, you can just ignore those."

Will squinted, regarding him closely but then kept looking anyway, reading the CD track lists.

The songs that he found weren't the cheesy pop tunes that Chilton had made them out to be. Less Billy Joel and Rick Astley, more Fleetwood Mac and Tears For Fears. That revelation was promising but also slightly unfortunate, because poking fun at Frederick's taste in music would have served as a great pastime for Will.

"Crowded House... Eagles... These are _by far_ better than what we have on now. This is _good_  music. Joy Division! Great music."

"Play it, then," said Frederick with a dismissive shake of his head.

Will did just that.

It was near the end of the first song, _Sitting Still_ by R.E.M., that he noticed Chilton was humming and even mouthing the words under his breath. The next two songs went the same way.

"You know all the words to these s— do you still like this music, Frederick?"

"There is an element of... nostalgia there, I suppose. Some of these songs were the soundtrack to my adolescence."

The mental image of a self-professed 'rebellious' teenage Chilton listening to this kind of music entertained Will to no end and he sat back comfortably in his chair as Bruce Springsteen crooned through the speaker system.

There was still no doubt that this was going to be a long drive — but at least now he had the company of decent music on his side instead of solely... Frederick Chilton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made an 80s music road trip playlist that I might clean up and post with the next chapter...


	2. Ohio & Indiana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little bit longer than the last, hope that’s a good thing!

Just over four hours into their trip they hit Ohio, and the border felt like a landmark, as though they were finally getting somewhere and had moved beyond the first leg of their trip.

Will's bored gaze wandered around the interior of the car, and he soon realised that Chilton was wearing a full suit, tie and all, and it was _hot._ The direction in which they were driving meant that the afternoon sun blazed straight through the windshield and onto their faces.

"Aren't you uncomfortable driving in all those layers?"

The sleeves of Frederick's tight-fitted suit jacket were straining as he reached up to grip the steering wheel, and a light sheen of sweat reflected sunlight off his face.

"I might take off my blazer at the next stop."

" _Scandalous,"_  Will joked, but then his tone turned more serious. "Speaking of our next stop..."

" _Goddamn it_  — we had a break less than an hour ago, why didn’t you use the restroom then?"

"I didn't have to go then."

"Alright, fine."

Within ten minutes they were pulling up to what seemed like a derelict truck stop. Will dashed inside to find a restroom and returned to the car to find Chilton laying his suit blazer carefully across the backseats.

"There you go," he muttered as Frederick closed the back door and they both got into their respective front seats at the same time. Will passed Frederick's very specific order, an iced soy latte, over to him. "Sticking with the tie though, huh? Christ, loosen it at least a little if you won't take it off, and _relax_ a bit."

"Oh, mark the date and time." Frederick punctuated his words by turning the key in the ignition for dramatic effect. " _Will Graham_ is telling _me_ to relax."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are  _hardly_ the most notoriously easy-going person."

"Well... certain experiences can change a man’s outlook on life, could you believe it." Will had been making a conscious effort to be more laidback and relaxed these days — an aim which felt a little further from reach in Chilton's presence.

"Mmm, nothing like a scrape with death and the blinding confrontation of your own mortality to put a jump in your step."

While there certainly wasn't a jump in his step, Frederick's sense of humour _had_ grown much drier of late... perhaps as a coping mechanism.

" _Jesus Christ,"_ said Will with a shake of his head.

"What?" Frederick took a big swig of his coffee before placing it in the cup holder. "I'm  _allowed_ to say it."

"Oh, _really?"_

"I outnumber you two to one." Two  _near-death experiences_ to one.

"What — wow. Trust you of all people to find a way to somehow lord that over me."

"I am not lording it over you." Chilton sounded reminiscent of his classic and well-rehearsed patronising tone. "I was trying to make the point that... I..."

"Empathise?" Will donned an incredulous expression because if that was what Frederick meant, he had chosen an  _incredibly_ roundabout way of saying it.

"I was trying to avoid employing that particular word, but yes."

Will shrugged nonchalantly in response, used to hearing far, far worse. "Our recent experiences at his hands have been shockingly similar, I'll give you that."

True, although Frederick knew that he didn’t have the excuse of having been in the severely vulnerable position that Lecter's patients had been in. No, in fact it was his job to figure out people like that, people like _him_ , and most definitely _not_  to fall prey to their cunning attempts at manipulation. Needless to say, that aspect of Chilton's past was still a sore spot. With an ego like his, perhaps it always would be.

There was also the knowledge he was only alive because Lecter simply couldn't be bothered to expend the effort it would have taken to eliminate him himself.

Sighing deeply as if to purge those thoughts from his mind, Frederick turned the key in the ignition and set about pulling out of the gas station and back onto the interstate.

Will had less luck himself with the same; he ended up really pondering just how much of the horror he had experienced at Lecter's hands had also extended to Chilton. He didn't require an elevated level of empathy to draw a number of parallels, and with that an unexpectedly profound sense of kinship began to take root in his chest.

* * * * *

" _Again?_ For the love of God..."

Will needing to use the restroom at wildly inconvenient times had begun to emerge as a theme of their day.  It was getting late, but they were still almost 400 miles out from where Frederick wanted them to reach by the end of the day when Will piped up once more.

"I swear, your bladder must be the size of a _pea,_ Will! Christ, I am one kidney short and still fare better than you."

"You're so _uptight_."

"I just would like to get to the city before it is pitch black out on this endless interstate, is that too much to ask?"

"A five minute break won’t do anything, come on. I'll even buy you a coffee, and some snacks."

Coffee — Frederick couldn't bring himself to refuse that. Of course, five minutes inevitably became fifteen, but he took the opportunity to top up the tank and waited eagerly for Will to get back with what he'd promised.

As soon as he was handed the paper cup with his coffee Frederick took a long, long sip.

"I thought I asked for an iced soy _latte."_

"I remembered." Will rolled his eyes. "All they had was filter coffee, but it is with soy milk."

"Oh. Alright. What did you bring to eat? Now that I think about it, I am positively _famished."_

"These kinds of gas stations don't exactly cater to an optimal, nutritious vegan diet. So I... improvised. I thought you'd need carbs and something sweet to keep you going."

Will took a box of frosted animal crackers out of the plastic bag he had brought back with him, followed by a bumper pack of frosted fruit pies. Frederick balked; it was the kind of food that deserved air quotation marks and that he would never usually have come anywhere near. 

"Might you have anything that is not literally _caked_ in sugar? Something, dare I ask, nutritious?"

"Look," Will prodded at the packaging of the fruit pies, "they have a _real_ fruit filling."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Frederick grumbled, snatching the pies out of Will's hand anyway. His options were clearly severely limited and _fuck it,_ he was actually at the point of being hungry enough to attempt to eat those diabetes-inducing hell pies.

To Will's credit, they _were_  technically vegan.

And, much to Frederick's surprise... not disgusting. _Almost_ tasty. Not that he'd ever, _ever_ admit that to Will.

Five minutes after they had got back on the road, Will realised with a start that he had forgotten to take his afternoon dose of painkillers. The rattle of the pill bottle caught Frederick's attention.

"What do they have you on, oxycodone?"

"...I _was_ on that, yes. Naproxen now, for the inflammation too. Any more questions?"

"No, I didn't mean to seem as though I were prying, only... I took both of those, and they gave me these terrible headaches. I was going to offer some advice regarding what helped me."

"Oh." Suffice it to say, Will wasn't entirely convinced, but he went with it. "Well, I haven’t had any side effects like that. Drowsiness at first, but that's all."

"That's good. Lucky."

"Lucky? That is a _strong_ choice of word. Look at me, I'm hardly lucky," he intoned lowly.

"There's that dry sense of humour. Almost."

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh. Uh —" Frederick stammered, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks "— well, in that case..."

Will burst into laughter, actual  _laughter_ and the sound was so entirely unfamiliar to Chilton that he took his eyes off the road for longer than was strictly safe.

"That was far too easy," Graham said, still smiling. "Played at your own game."

"Oh, shut up."

"You should have seen the look on your face!"

"I'm glad you're entertained," Frederick deadpanned with a trademark roll of his eyes.

"Got to keep myself occupied somehow."

"At my account?"

Will only snickered this time but the playful smile didn't leave his lips afterwards. "Whoever else's?"

* * * * *

As they hit the eight hour mark of their journey and Indiana's cornfields passed by them in a haze, Frederick became alerted to the utter silence beside him. No shuffling or rustling, nothing at all.

"Hey! Don't you fall asleep on me, Graham."

Will opened one eye and turned his head with the sole purpose of levelling a glare at Chilton. "Has anyone told you lately that you’re absolutely _insufferable_?"

"Good."

"And I'm bored as all hell, what else am I supposed to do but sleep?"

"The _very least_ you can do is give me some decent company while I am practically chauffeuring you across the country."

"What do you expect from me, _car games?"_

Frederick made an little ambiguous noise that seemed to hold more assent than dissent.

"You're serious? I haven't been on a road trip since I was in high school, I don't remember any games," Will grumbled, slouching down in his seat again.

"Truth or dare?" Frederick asked in a strange, slightly self-congratulatory tone that left Will unsure whether he was joking or not. His silence was noted. "Or are you too scared?"

Will tried to brush off the suggestion entirely. "There isn't much we can do in the way of dares here."

"Truths, then."

"I see what you're..." This so-called game was going to be a way for Chilton to feed his own morbid curiosities about Will's personal life, wasn't it? "Wow, that’s _real_ smooth."

"Me?" Frederick cracked a grin. "Of course I’m smooth."

"Yeah," muttered Will, "smooth as sandpaper."

"I will even give  _you_  the privilege of going first."

"How kind of you. Fine. For the sake of the conversation that you so desperately desire, three questions each — but with vetos."

Will already had a question taking shape in his mind when Frederick hummed his agreement.

"Alright. Why did you visit me at the hospital? I woke up to find the flowers you left. Why didn’t you wake me, or stay long enough for me to wake up myself?"

"That sounds to me like _two_ questions."

"Count it as two, then."

"I came because I — forgive the choice of word, _again_ — empathise with you. I know what it is to be both accused and... eviscerated. And it is a given that you didn't deserve it."

There was more to it, though, but nothing that Frederick would dare to admit at that time.

"Why did you leave so quickly, then?"

"I didn't expect that you would appreciate a social visit at such a delicate time." _Especially not from me._

"I didn't expect that you would be considerate of that. I may not have been exactly welcoming to a visitor, but I do appreciate the gesture."

Chilton waved away his gratitude.

"It was the least I could do. Your actual friends were all in similar states themselves, so... I didn’t want you to feel..." he cleared his throat "... _alone_."

Understanding the unsaid _"because I did feel alone"_ , behind Frederick's words, Will wondered at the strange irony of their situation. Little did Chilton know that that Will had been by his bedside as much as he could have been without giving himself away.

But here had been too many people around Chilton once he woke up, too many doctors and guards and police officers — and journalists, too — for Graham to risk being sighted visiting the supposed Chesapeake Ripper. Not to mention Will had sunken even further into Lecter's clutches in his own lonely fight to see very much outside of his tunnel vision.

He could have taken that opportunity to divulge this all to Frederick but he hadn't visited him to boast about it and paint himself as some sort of saint. It was almost selfish; being at Chilton's bedside had given Will an odd sense of inner peace in a time when that was unimaginably rare.

"Thank you," was all that Will said instead, and emphatically. "Your question, then, I suppose."

"Where are your dogs, while you're away?"

"Really?"

"My curiosities come in all shapes and sizes. Just like said dogs."

He was also still building up the courage to bring the question he really wanted to ask to his lips.

"I'm somewhat friendly with the nurse at the local vet. She was kind enough to check in on them now and then for a few days."

"So, my second question?" Frederick asked Will to confirm.

"Fine."

Chilton hesitated briefly, and although it may have seemed as though he was still thinking up a question, he was actually just rolling the words around his tongue, building up the courage to say them.

"Do you still hold... our previous encounters... against me? Still feel hatred towards me?"

When Will, shocked, turned to look at Chilton, he found him wearing a stern poker face.

"No, I don’t  _hate_ you, Frederick."

He said that so matter-of-factly that it stirred an uneasiness within the other man.

" _No?_ You did give me reason to think otherwise."

_Although perhaps I gave you plenty of reason to be justified in that._

Lost for words, Will ruminated. He hadn't hesitated to turn Chilton over to the authorities despite being fully aware of his innocence, so as not to forsake his own efforts to catch Lecter. He hadn't truly considered who he was trampling over to achieve that.

"I'm sorry."

Will had spoken those two little words and what came to follow many times to the unconscious form of the man sat beside him now in the quiet of his hospital room. But saying them when he knew they would actually be _heard_ was a whole other thing.

"I didn't mean for what happened to you... to happen. Not that you weren't an asshole, but you certainly didn't deserve... that."

Rather astonished at Graham's frankness and sincerity, Frederick adopted an equally honest, level tone, keeping his gaze focused on the road before him.

"What's done is... done. I don't blame you. Perhaps I did once, a little, but I see life as too short to hold onto grudges against those who were ultimately victims themselves. Our errors pale in comparison to his tyranny."

"You know, Frederick, I... would have expected you to be more bitter, vindictive and probably well within your rights to be."

"I refuse to give him the satisfaction of having myself dwell on the past and ruin the rest of my life over it. The most important fact is that I survived. And, I don't know, this scar — " he tapped his cheek — "in a way, makes me feel distinguished."

Will genuinely chuckled at that attempt to lighten the mood. The whole situation sounded so unusually simple coming from Frederick like that, as though he were completely correct in saying that the only thing that mattered now was their survival. Perhaps it was because Chilton had turned out to be far stronger and more resilient than anyone may have predicted.

"Not everything has to be so catastrophic," he continued. "It's a perfectly pleasant day, the sun is shining and there isn't a cloud to be seen — why focus on such unsavoury matters?"

"I do think it was _you_ that raised the topic in the first place," Will noted, "but — I'm inclined to agree with you."

"So we are on the same page. Still, before we move on from this topic of conversation: for whatever it may be worth, I also apologise for, uh — whatever part I may have... _unknowingly_ played in..."

The man was clearly completely unaccustomed to voicing apologies, and eventually Will took pity.

"Let's just call it even?" he proposed, surprising even himself with his willingness to let the past go.

" _Even?"_

"I was _trying_ to draw a line under things —"

"Alright. Okay. _Even."_

And that was the end of it.

After their brief but intense conversation Will experienced a moment of realisation: the man sat beside him, that wasn't the Frederick Chilton he had known. He simply didn't reconcile with the idea of him that he held in his mind.

The once tense air between them felt somewhat cleared now, and while they hardly expected to become the best of friends the atmosphere felt amicable. Frederick hummed along to the songs that were playing on the speaker system and Will kept his eyes on the outside world, lulled into a sense of serenity as field after field flew by. 

Somewhere around Indianapolis, Will couldn't pinpoint exactly when, the final knot of anxiety he had been under the influence of loosened in his chest and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

The A.C. was blowing perfectly, right in his face and he sunk back into his seat as he looked out of the windshield. Driving west as they were, they were soon blessed with the gorgeous sight of a dynamic sunset, streaks of rose and peach illuminating the sky above the endless road.

Maybe, just maybe, this drive wouldn't turn out to be quite so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist is ready! Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIpml9n7zu0ZGjFiZi9b2NK_xfDt6Br3s) for a bunch of Banging 80s Tunes in a practically random order because I had no idea how to arrange them...


	3. Indiana & Illinois

Love's Gas Station was a blessed oasis in the desert of Illinois farmland.

Both Frederick and Will had been suffering from rumbling stomachs for the past fifty miles or so. It would have been well past dinner time if they were still following a schedule of regular meal times. 

"What should I get you?" Will asked as they both stepped out of the car.

Frederick felt under the influence of a very specific type of hunger. "I need vitamins, minerals. _Vegetables_."

"I'll see what I can do."

While Frederick began filling the tank with gas, Will set out on his mission. He returned five minutes later with two full bags in tow and although that seemed promising to Chilton he still tried not to raise his expectations.

"So. Did you find anything _green_ this time?"

"Yeah." Will dug around in the bag and produced a small packet which he held out towards Frederick. "I picked this out especially for you..."

It was a pickle. Individually wrapped in a pouch and advertised proudly as a 'Dill Pickle in a Bag'. A pickle in a bag. A pickle. One single pickle.

Surprising even himself, Frederick let out a dry cackle but resisted the urge to indulge in actual laughter. " _Hilarious_. The utmost peak of humour."

Will mirrored the other's smile subconsciously, but chose not to torture Chilton too much with the prospect of having only his sad little pickle to eat.

"It’ll go well with this salad. Which actually looks mostly... real." He passed over the plastic container before taking out an identical one from the other bag. "I even bought _myself_ one."

With flimsy plastic forks in their arsenal they tucked right in, both beyond hungry.

"You should... um, I might be speaking out of turn here but you should really eat more than just salad, with the medication you are taking."

"Okay, I — thanks, uh... I'll open this." He dug around in the bag and this time took out what could only be described as a _gigantic_ pack of Chex Mix: chips, breadsticks, pretzels, crackers and all.

Frederick sighed loudly — _dramatically,_ making it obvious what he thought of that dietary choice.

"What?" asked Will. "That's all carbs, it'll line my stomach, right?"

Chilton couldn't quite muster the strength to argue with that kind of logic.

"I suppose so. Why do I get the feeling that this —" he gestured to the food in Will's lap "— is not largely divergent from your usual diet?"

"Says the man who inhales coffee as if it's air."

Lips pursed, Frederick tried to think of a way to contest that statement, and hated that he failed. _God,_ he hated it.

"Touché."

* * * * *

It was only when they got back on the road and drove away from the fluorescent floodlights of the gas station that Will realised quite how dark it was outside. He gazed out of the window and up at the stars, counting them absentmindedly. Wolf Trap may have been fairly rural but the stars there had nothing on the sight before him now.

"We should turn in somewhere soon, don’t you think? It's getting late."

"I can make it to St Louis. It is hardly late and we are on a tight schedule. More importantly, there is absolutely no way in hell that I am spending a whole night in one of the seedy motels dotted along the highway."

" _Come on_. There have been vacancies at every single one we’ve driven past. It makes sense to stay somewhere close to the interstate."

"The interstate is taking us right to St. Louis. An actual city with respectable hotels."

"Fine, you're the driver. I can't exactly protest."

Around an hour later, past the border into Illinois, it was silently so but Graham was beginning to believe they would actually make it to St. Louis that night — until he was forced to think again.

"Ah, _fuck,"_ muttered Chilton out of the blue.

Will cracked open one of his stealthily closed eyes and turned to see the other man slouching in his seat with discomfort marking his features.

"Carsickness is creeping up on me; I may need a break."

Although Will tried to bite his tongue, it was ultimately to no avail; he couldn’t help but make a slight dig.

"Look who it is making us stop now. Do drivers even get carsick?"

"Evidently they do," said Frederick shortly.

"Relax, I’m not complaining," Will backtracked. "I'm happy to have the chance to stretch my legs a bit."

The next gas station they came across was on the outskirts of a small city, Casey. While Will ran in to use the restroom — _surprise, surprise_ — Frederick took the welcome opportunity to rest his eyes.

He was caught rubbing furiously at his left eye in particular when he had thought Will was still inside.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Frederick maintained, but Will looked at him expectantly until he continued. "It's just my — my eyes. My depth perception has suffered since... and I wear a corrective contact lens but my eyes still tend to grow strained rather easily."

" _Anyone's_  eyes would feel strained after driving for that many hours straight."

"Hmm."

Will couldn't help but notice that Chilton did that a lot, replied to things he said with a little noncommittal hum when he didn’t want to agree or disagree overtly.

"We should stop for the night," he suggested. Again.

"Already?" Frederick protested, still trying to will away his inconvenient pain but with his determination now beginning to wane.

As he let out a little scoff, Graham’s brows knitted together. His tone was lined with a mild frustration. "It’s almost  _1am_ , Frederick."

"Alright, _fine_ ," came the grumbled response.

"Sorry, what was that? _‘You’re absolutely right, Will’_?"

"Don’t push it."

Frederick dashed inside to use the restroom, and when he returned Will was stood leaning against the car on the driver's side, effectively blocking his access. He soon realised why that was.

"Um... I was thinking I could, uh — drive, if you need to stop?" Graham offered. "Just up to the nearest motel along the highway. I asked the cashier and he said it’s only ten or eleven miles away."

"Would you really fare better under these conditions? You were practically asleep — no, _comatose_  before we arrived here, don’t think for one minute that I failed to realise."

All that he received in response was a heavy sigh and a shrug of Will’s shoulders.

"We make quite the pair, don’t we?" Frederick mused. "Permanently hindered vision and severely sedating medication." He arched a brow and in his fatigue a rare wave of defeatism crashed over him. "So much for winning out against Hannibal Lecter."

"Jesus, you didn’t have to _say it_."

Will finally stepped aside, allowing the other man to get into the driver’s seat.

"I'm _allowed_ to say it," Chilton intoned, relying on the very same justification he had used a while earlier — two near-death experiences beats one.

"Goddamn it." Will was much too tired to argue; he even allowed himself a half-amused smirk as he walked around the car to the passenger side. "You had better not pull that card again because it's already annoying."

"I had a literal hole shot into my face, Graham, let me have this."

* * * * *

Exactly fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a run-of-the-mill, standard-looking motel in a nearby village, still in Illinois. _So much for St. Louis._

"What's wrong?" asked Will as they rode the elevator to the second floor and the twin room they had just booked.

"Nothing, I am positively _thrilled_ to be spending the night in a motel with the word ‘budget’ in its title."

"We weren't exactly in a position to be picky. Budget just means good value."

"No, it means... grossly subpar."

They roamed the corridors in search of their room, and Will soon felt forced to inwardly admit that Frederick was right, this motel was _really_ shitty. It felt as though they had stepped back in time. Once they found their room, they took their turns in the bathroom and got themselves ready for bed in silence, both worn out by the fatigue of long hours on the road and perhaps their own squabbling too.

Frederick found slumber first, and soon. How did Will know that? Because of the snoring, a presence so unimaginably loud that it filled the room entirely — and then some. Needless to say, falling asleep proved far more difficult for him. It only took a few minutes for his patience to wear thin, so in desperation he pulled out one of the two pillows from under his head and hurled it across the room, hoping it would stir Chilton from his slumber enough to stop the snoring.

It didn't, and Will almost immediately regretted what he had done because he was left only the one flat pillow beneath his head, far from comfortable. After another minute or so he dragged himself out of bed to retrieve his failed missile. Just as he lifted the pillow from where it had landed on Frederick's chest, he woke up —

— and his fist found the other man right in his face, striking the arch of his cheek bone.

"Fuck!" Will stumbled backwards until the backs of his legs hit the side of his bed and he landed on it with a thump.

Having instinctively jumped to sit up, Frederick scrambled to switch on the lamp that sat on his nightstand. The flickering yellow light illuminated only part of the room, but enough to reveal who it was that had woken him.

"Will? W _hat the hell_ were you doing?"

"I... fuck, give me a minute."

With Graham's face buried in both hands, there was no way for Frederick to see the extent of the damage that he had unwittingly inflicted.

"You were snoring," he explained, voice so muffled it was barely decipherable, "so I threw a pillow at you. I just came over to get it back."

"Snoring?" At that, Chilton looked as though _he_ was the one who had been _assaulted,_ and was fully primed to fight back. "I  _do not_  snore."

"You snore like a goddamn pig," Will maintained, his irritated words still barely decipherable. "If you don’t believe me we can ask whoever's next door or even two floors above us, I’m sure they would have heard it."

"There's no need to be quite so dramatic."

"You just _punched me_ in the face!" A sharp stinging pain swelled between Graham's eyes and rang out in his ears, every other sense feeling similarly distorted. "I think I'm going to have a black eye."

It was time to think fast.

"Uh... ice!" exclaimed Frederick. "I saw a water cooler that dispenses ice in the lobby."

Before dashing downstairs he made sure to grab a towel from the bathroom and the case with his denture on his nightstand, putting it into place in his mouth as he made his way along the corridor. Will had probably — hopefully — been too preoccupied just then to have noticed Chilton's disfigurement in its fully exposed form. Frederick couldn't mess around putting his contact lens in at such a delicate time so his eyes remained mismatched, but at least he hadn't removed the makeup that concealed the scar on his left cheek before going to bed.

He returned within minutes carrying a bundle of ice cubes wrapped in the towel and silently handed that over to Will, who was now sat back against the headboard of his bed, for him to hold against his cheek. Will winced immediately, the pressure bringing with it a stabbing jolt of pain.

Frederick took a seat on his own bed, feeling helpless under a wave of anxiety. He saw that Will kept taking the ice away from his face, and suddenly he had something to do.

"Just — hold it there!" he ordered. "Stop pulling it away."

If there was irritation and a certain bossiness in Frederick's tone, it was accompanied by sincere concern.

"It hurts! Fuck, now I'm getting lightheaded."

"Fine, sit back and give it to me."

Frederick perched on the edge of Will's bed and pressed the makeshift ice pack into Will's upper cheek. The light but persistent pressure still brought some pain with it, but after a while Will also experienced an element of relief, the edge being taken off.

"You have a surprisingly good right hook. Although Christ, that makes _two_ reasons to feel sorry for whoever has to share a bed with you."

"Fortunately that is not an issue," Frederick muttered under his breath, then louder: "One tends to develop rapid reflexes after experiencing the kind of —  _shocks_  that I have."

Neither of the two was sure quite how long it was that they stayed sat as they were in a mildly unnerving silence, waiting for Will to feel better. The minutes ticked by.

"So much for resting up for tomorrow," sighed Chilton, glancing upwards for the umpteenth time at the broken clock that hung on the wall between their beds.

"Just go back to sleep, you're the one who has to drive all day. I'll be fine."

"There is simply no point; I won't be able to fall asleep without being certain you are alright." That definitely came out softer and more concerned than Frederick had intended it to. "What I mean is, I should _probably_ keep an eye on you in case you might have a concussion, or..."

"Than– actually, I don't know whether to thank you or _curse_ you, Frederick."

"Neither is necessary."

"Maybe I'll take the opportunity to fall asleep while you're not snoring."

"Really? Even after being punched square in the face you want to harp on about the _snoring?"_

"You sound somewhere between a fork stuck in a garbage disposal and a chainsaw going through a car. The windows were rattling in their frames."

"What a picture you paint." 

Graham sighed deeply as his eyes began to lid over, head spinning nonetheless. "I still feel woozy."

"Try not to focus on the pain."

"That's easy to say from where you're sat."

Instead of offering a snarky comeback as he usually would, Frederick retreated inwards for a moment, thinking.

"When is your next dose of naproxen scheduled?"

"It would have been as soon as I woke up in the morning but I _could_ take it now, it _has_ been more than four hours since my last —"

"Then I think you should."

Will made a move to sit up, but Frederick pushed lightly on his shoulder to keep him in place. "Just tell me where it is."

"Must be on the nightstand."

Chilton searched out the orange pill bottle with his free hand and handed it to Will.

"Uh, water —" he began, looking around, but by the time his gaze returned to Will he was already swallowing the pills dry. "You really should _not_ swallow your pills like that. You'll _choke_ one of these days. Or burn the insides of your throat."

The pill bottle was already closed by the time the smell hit Frederick, dry and powdery, medicinal. He scrunched up his nose in disgust but it was too late, it still managed to transport him back to another time.

"Dear God, I _loathe_ that smell. It reminds me of, uh... for some unholy reason the hospital ward that I was last in — specifically _my_ corridor — absolutely _reeked_ of pills."

"Yeah, I know," replied Will, his hazy mind giving absolutely no thought to what he was admitting to with those words. "Christ."

_"You know?"_

_Fuck._

"I... didn't mean that." While Will had never been  particularly adept at lying, he was now far too preoccupied to make even a half decent go of it.

"Clearly you did." The conclusion that followed on from that was no stretch; there was no use hoping that Chilton would miss it. "Wh–when? How many times did you come there?"

"Just a couple, uh — three or..." _Eight_. "All before you first woke up."

Try as he might, Frederick couldn’t entirely prevent the way in which his voice dropped to a soft whisper. "I thought you couldn't give a damn what happened to me."

"I, um — I knew you were innocent. But still going to be treated like a murderous psychopath, with no one paying any mind to what you had to say in defense of yourself."

"That was how _I_  treated you, Will." His tone was blatantly soaked with remorse now, he didn't have to express that explicitly.

"I know it was. At first. But your eyes were still open enough to see the truth and that's more than can be said for most people involved. Not that I can really blame the others, but, uh — I don't know... in the grand scheme of things, you're not all  _that_ bad, Frederick."

"Coming from the person I just punched in the face, that..." It meant a great deal more than perhaps either would have expected _._  Frederick cleared this throat of the threat of encroaching emotion but Will's simple words felt like something of a validation, perhaps even an amnesty. "Thank you. How do you feel, now?"

"Better, actually. Definitely not concussed. How does it look?"

Frederick took the wet towel away from Will's face, placed it on the nightstand and leaned a little closer to inspect his face all in one swift motion. The redness had for the large part faded, and the swelling looked to be rather minimal.

"I don't _think_ it will bruise. If it does... oh no, you're speaking at the conference, you _cannot_  go up on stage looking as though you have been mixed up in some kind of —" his nose turned up "— bar brawl."

"It has two days to heal."

Frederick stood up, hesitating before phrasing his next words carefully as he turned back around.

"Worst come to worst, I do have some... cosmetic products that I use for my scar, which we could use to mask any remnant bruising. I really do apologise, Will."

"You weren't to know. Sorry for scaring you." Will shuffled to get under his duvet, ready for this night to end already. "Let's get some sleep."

With a nod, Frederick turned and returned to his own bed, stealthily placing his denture back in its case before settling under the covers, facing away from the other bed. Something felt different in the atmosphere between them, but his tired mind couldn't pinpoint what. Neither could Graham's own, similarly distracted from complete relaxation and rest.

"Good night, Will."

"Good night, Frederick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been... A While, but I haven't given up on this fic! It's mostly planned, life and block just got in the way  
> Hopefully the next update won't be too far behind, certainly nowhere near as overdue as this one!


	4. Illinois & Missouri

It was 8am. 8.07am, to be precise.

Frederick woke to the gentle warmth of the dawning sun on his face and the burning need to relieve himself. He padded across the room in the darkness, swiftly avoiding Will's bed, which in his hurry he didn't realise was empty. But as his hand reached out to push the handle, the bathroom door opened from the other side and Will bumped right into him, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, water droplets sprinkled across his chest. Frederick bit back the shocked yelp that very nearly sprung from his lips.

"Oh, uh... s-sorry," he stammered in its place.

"Sorry. I thought you were still asleep."

"I'll just —"

They awkwardly shuffled past each other and once Frederick locked the bathroom door behind himself he was promptly alerted to the fact that his heart was racing. He didn't understand why, and didn't particularly want to either. After he was done in there, he gave it another couple of minutes — minutes spent reading the back of his toothpaste tube, so as not to find Will in a similar state again.

For once, luck was on his side. As Frederick emerged from the bathroom to retrieve his clothes so that he could take a shower too, he was met with the sight of a fully clothed Will stood at the foot of his bed, checking his phone. The waxing guilt that stabbed at Chilton's mind soon outweighed his embarrassment.

"Uh, how is your...?"

Will understood what he meant; he screwed up the muscles in his face and then relaxed them again as if to search out any residual pain.

"It doesn't hurt much, but I don’t know how it _looks_ — I had a quick glance in the mirror but the bathroom light's blown. Could you... take a look?"

"Yes, of course."

Tilting his head down, Will took a step closer, as did Frederick. The sight of bright hazel green eyes peering up at him so closely caused Will to close his own as if it were a reflex. 

Meanwhile Frederick's gaze trailed up to follow the curves of long eyelashes, over the jut of Will's cheekbones, first looking out closely for any swelling or discolouration but then getting distracted, meandering to trace his strong jawline and flushed pink lips...

Until that moment, Chilton had always managed to suppress the part of his mind — his _subconscious_  mind — that was acutely aware of the fact that Will Graham was really goddamn attractive.

"So? How do I look?" Impatient, Will opened his eyes to find Frederick still planted in his personal space and looking at him intently.

"You look, uh... great. Yes, um, fine, I mean," he blabbered, lost somewhere in Will's piercing blue eyes. "All good, thank god..."

Their gazes were still locked on each other, almost entranced, and for all that he didn’t understand it Will came under the influence of a need to diffuse whatever moment they were sharing.

"Thank god indeed," he attempted a lighthearted tone, "I'm sure you don't want battery on your rap sheet, Doctor. I would have sued, of course."

It worked; thank goodness. Chilton grabbed onto the life raft Will had thrown his way with both hands. A slight smirk replaced his previously befuddled expression.

"Oh, you would have had no chance. I'm quite seasoned in regard to personal injury claims, would you believe."

Will let out a short scoff — or sigh of relief, depending on how one saw it. "I won't fight you on that one, Frederick."

* * * * *

 _"Slow down_ for Christ's sake, you'll give yourself a stomachache at this rate."

Frederick eyed the cooked breakfast across the table and in front of Will: eggs, bacon, the works. This small all-night diner had looked somewhat shoddy from the outside, certainly kitschy on the inside, but it seemed to score marginally higher on the food front.

"I'm an adult Frederick, I'll eat how I like," Graham bit back after swallowing his latest mouthful. "Besides, you’re the one who's always in such a hurry to get on the road."

"Fine, scarf down your heart attack on a plate, by all means. Scoop up the grease while you're at it."

Chilton allowed a wry smile to spread across his lips. Engaging in this form of banter felt more normal, less like that highly confusing moment in the motel room earlier.

"You’re only saying that because _your_ breakfast looks so... sad," Will countered, playing along.

Not that he was wrong. All that Frederick could eat there was wholemeal toast with marmalade. With more than half of his second slice still remaining, he gently pushed the plate away from himself.

"No need to labour the point, I am fully aware of the downsides of my dietary restrictions. What I wouldn’t give for a simple plate of Belgian waffles. Ah, with a fresh fruit compote."

At that, Graham pondered for a long moment, the fork he’d been wielding dropping to his plate. When Frederick excused himself to the restroom and disappeared from sight, toothbrush in tow, Will took it as his cue to spring into action.

After catching his bearings, he made directly for the condiments bar across the diner. All he found there in the way of milk replacements was non-dairy creamer in tiny sachets. Those would suffice for a cup of coffee but wouldn’t cut it much further.

So Will waved down the waitress as she left another table, and she grinned expectantly as she came to a stop beside him, a grin that neglected to reach her tired, dark-circled eyes.

"Do you, by any chance, stock soy milk? Or almond milk, anything like that?" The upward intonation of his voice was laden with a hopefulness that wasn't to be vindicated.

Her reaction delayed, the waitress couldn’t help but furrow her brows at the unusual request. "You could try the grocery store two doors over but that’s your only shot around here."

"Thank you. My uh — friend, he had a kidney operation recently so his diet is very restricted. _Vegan_. If I manage to buy the milk, would you be able to whip up a batch of pancakes for him with that?"

"The chef can give it a try, I suppose."

"Great, thank you."

In a stroke of luck, Will not only found soy milk within seconds of entering the grocery store, but he also had some idea of how to go about the rest of this unexpected endeavour. He had made eggless pancakes himself once before — not through choice, but to satisfy a craving when he was snowed in and out of eggs. Replacing them with extra milk and a generous pinch of baking soda had done the trick well enough.

So Will hurriedly suggested that the chef to do the same — with the soy milk of course, thanked him for taking the time to make something off-menu, and returned to the table to polish off what remained of his own breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, Frederick wasn’t one to let Will's little vanishing act slide.

"And where the hell have you been?"

"I put in another order for some food..."

_"More?"_

"Yes."

Only minutes later, when he caught sight of the waitress leaving the kitchen from the corner of his eye, did Will elaborate on his answer. He spoke faster than Frederick had heard him speak before, oddly determined to explain himself.

"You're going to be driving all day and, well, I obviously can't help with that directly, so — so I thought I could at least help you get some decent fuel for the day."

He rounded off his impromptu speech just as the waitress stepped up to their table. She placed before Frederick a steaming pile of pancakes topped with a big swirl of warm blueberry sauce, the vibrant purple cascading down the sides.

"Uh, it's..." He looked between the two co-conspirators, unusually rendered speechless.

"Totally vegan," the waitress chirped before stepping back. 

"Thank you," he sputtered, "thank you."

"Thank your  _friend_ here. He went out to find the soy milk and arranged this with the chef personally. Just call out if you need anything else, boys."

Focused on ignoring the slight implication in the waitress' voice that they were more than friends, and even the assumption that they were friends at all, Will was quite content to end the conversation there and focus on the remaining contents of his plate. Chilton, however, despite being mildly irritated at himself for being so moved by this, couldn’t change that he was.

"Thank you, Will." He wasn’t used to this type of gesture being extended to him, not one bit. Caught off guard, most definitely. "That was..." _Kind? Sweet?_ Those words felt far too intimate, and _considerate_ felt almost patronising. "It was good of you."

Will only smiled softly in response to Frederick’s gratitude, and mostly behind the shield of his coffee cup. "You’d better get a move on if we’re leaving soon."

It was after 10am, bellies full and bladders emptied, that they set off from Greenup with a long day on the road ahead of them. The two were never going to talk non-stop but they lapsed into a comfortable silences now rather than awkward ones. Those were broken every once in a while by little comments or observations — and, a lot of the time, complaining.

“Dear god, I  _hate_ the countryside," groaned Frederick somewhere in the fields of Illinois that truly seemed to stretch out across the horizon indefinitely. "I swear to you, I am going to see swathes of corn stalks flashing past when I close my eyes to sleep tonight."

"There's a whole lot worse that could flash before your eyes, take my word for it."

"I don't need to."

Will stretched his arms out before him and rolled his shoulders back, wriggling in his seat.

"You're complaining about the view but if I sit in this car much longer, I'm fairly certain that my spine is going to cave in."

"And I'm fairly certain that is _not_ how it works."

Nevertheless, they resolved to take a break at the next rest stop or roadside landmark, whichever came first. It was the Kaskaskia Dragon — a towering metal sculpture, an industrial looking-construction that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the vast rural landscape.

They purchased the practically obligatory $1 token from the gift shop for around ten seconds of fire, breathed out from the dragon’s top hat clad head. As with most roadside oddities, the dragon's novelty wore off very soon and they decided to leave.

"Did you happen to notice not a single car has driven past in the time we’ve been here?" asked Frederick as they walked back towards the car, scanning the horizon.

Will went one further. "We haven't seen another car for miles before that."

"Hmm. Prime serial—killing hitchhiker territory, if I dare say so," Chilton muttered under his breath.

"I wish you hadn’t. This feels very Ida Lupino noir all of a sudden."

In spite of the grim topic of conversation _and_ how well he had trained his features to remain poker faced, Frederick's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "That's a classic."

"Underrated," they chorused unintentionally, before exchanging brief smiles and quickly breaking their gazes away from each other.

They set back out on the road in relative silence, until —

"That — that's the turning back to the interstate, I’m sure!" Will called out, almost jumping out of his seat to point to the right.

"Christ, you _could_ have told me before we were passing the intersection! Some prior warning would have been nice!"

"I only just realised! You didn’t _ask_ so I thought you knew."

"So much for your navigation," muttered Chilton in disdain.

"I would have expected you to have a highly sophisticated voice-automated GPS system."

By this point, the road had become one way only so they were stuck heading towards wherever it was that it led.

"I don’t often drive long distance," Frederick retaliated, annoyed more at the situation than his travel companion. "Use my phone, the passcode is 4758."

Will picked up the phone from the compartment between the two of them and unlocked it. He stared blankly at the screen. 

"You say that like I know how to work this thing."

With a dramatic sigh specifically for Will's attention, Chilton pulled over and put the hazard lights on, before taking the phone himself.

"It seems this road takes us to route 40, which merges with the I-70 a few miles further west."

"Yeah, I think I saw signs for that too."

"Alright then."

Although the matter was supposedly resolved now, Frederick paused for thought as his hand clutched the key in the ignition, primed.

"What? What are you thinking about?" Will regarded him with a fair amount of suspicion.

 _Why_ was he looking at him like that?

Tearing his gaze away from the heat of Will’s own, Frederick sprung into action. A whirring sound above and then behind them, loud and almost grating, answered Will's question. He tipped his head back to be greeted with the now unobstructed sight of open sky above them.

"Oh," he breathed out. "I forgot that this was a convertible."

"Funnily enough, I often do too."

"And here I thought you’d be the kind of rich —" Will cleared his throat as if to censor himself — "to put down the top of his car while waiting at a stoplight in the city, drawing as much attention as possible to the fact that you own a six-figure convertible."

"In that case, you would be completely wrong in your judgement. Losing your touch, Graham?"

"You surprised me _a little_. Don’t milk it."

Frederick checked his rear view mirror to find not a single car in sight, and then set off once more.

"To tell the truth, I simply wasn't fond of showing up at my place of work with leaves and the entirety of Baltimore's flying insect population in my hair. These days, such trivial concerns seem quite ridiculous."

"Seriously?"

Chilton's response came in the form of pushing his foot down harder on the gas pedal and the car revved in response, picking up speed quickly. Will eyed the speedometer as it rose to the speed limit then five, ten, twenty miles above it.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a thrill seeker." Although surprised, Will wasn't the kind to have a nervous disposition in matters such as this, certainly not after the very real terrors he had experienced firsthand.

"After one has had as many close encounters with... mortality as I have," Frederick began, before clearing his throat and sitting up straight in his seat, "it is only natural to want to live a little. I... find my ways."

"Hmm."

"You don't agree?"

"I never thought of it that way."

"Perhaps you should. I would say we have done plenty of dying already for those who are still standing. Why not finally dare to  _live?"_

If Chilton wasn't sat right beside him in that moment, if he couldn’t see _exactly that,_ Will would have struggled to imagine the former hospital administrator wearing shades, hair ruffled and windswept, speeding down a country lane with eighties music on the stereo and a content smile on his face. He couldn’t keep his own lips from twitching to mirror it, and genuinely so.

"Well, if your little traffic violation gets us to lunch sooner rather than later, by all means, step on it."

Graham's smile only widened when they hit the highway again, despite the roof of the car returning to its former place above them.

"Your hair," he breathed out, a definite smirk now playing on his lips as he assessed the damage to Chilton's once perfectly coiffed locks. "God, your hair is —"

"Oh, be quiet," retorted Frederick in something of a reflex. Then he paused, eyes narrowing into slits. "Is it really that bad?

"You look fine." Will waved him off, continuing despite his better judgment. "Certainly different, but..."

Frederick couldn't help but notice that a) Will had _never_ looked so quite so closely at him, and b) he wasn't looking solely at his hair anymore. A highly unwelcome blush bloomed on the psychiatrist's cheeks, the tables turned for once and  _he_  being the one feeling scrutinised.

"What?" he snapped. "Is there something on my face? ...Is it a bug?"

"Your smile." By this point, said smile had disappeared without a trace but its image remained fixed in Will's mind. "What I mean is, uh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually smiling before."

“Yes, you have.”

“Sarcastic smug smirks don’t count.”

“Ah. In that case, perhaps not.”

The crimson tone of Chilton's face only deepened, for as much as Chilton willed it away. For all of his talk of being ‘over’ the past and living his second (or third) chance at life to the fullest, he knew he didn’t smile a lot these days. There was a partly practical reason for it too; having stitches in his cheek had made emoting difficult.

That didn’t seem to be a problem anymore; he was actually _laughing_ now and it only felt wonderful, filling him with warmth from his chest outwards.

* * * * *

"Oh, I have a good one. Curly fries."

As he leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed casually against his chest Will waited for the animated response that he knew would follow once Chilton had fully processed his words.

 _"Curly fries?"_ parroted Frederick, not leaving time for a confirmation before continuing, "Christ Will, just how stupid do you think I am? Hannibal Lecter, so-called connoisseur of fine dining, did _not_ serve you curly fries at his nineteenth century mahogany dining table."

"I swear to God, I'm not making it up!"

Still planted firmly on the side of disbelief, Chilton tutted dismissively and Will didn't need to see him rolling his eyes to know full well that he was.

"I _promise_ you, it was curly fries. Not — not anything else. They tasted exactly like the fries you can buy in a bag, you know, to cook in your own oven." Pausing for breath, Will was only met with silence, silence that he took as a prompt to go on. "I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, the thought that he prepared this whole extravagant meal and served frozen fries alongside it, _or_ that he hand-sliced, hand-fried and carefully seasoned them with spices smuggled from halfway around the world only for them to taste like Walmart’s own anyway."

"Curly fries. The _sheer_.... I am well and truly lost for words. I wish I had been served curly fries. He once cooked some kind of root vegetable for me... celeriac, I think it was. Oversalted and ‘ash-baked’, which I found to be the technical term for smoked until it tasted like the contents of a chain-smoker’s ashtray."

"You paint quite the picture."

"Luckily, as you must already know, his portions were so preposterously small that there wasn’t too much to get through. You know, I always left the damn place hungry. So hungry that I..."

"What did you do?"

"On more than one occasion I picked up a meal from Olive Garden on my drive home."

"That is... that really is something. Touché."

"Whatever I bought tasted better than his nonsense anyway. Celeriac aside, his food was always too bland for my taste."

"Bland was the least of my problems. I ate  _ortolans_ with him."

"Ortolans?"

"Small songbirds. They're force-fed then drowned alive, _in brandy,_  before being roasted. I had to eat them whole, bones and everything, all in a single mouthful."

"That is positively vile," said Frederick with a repulsed sneer. "So it sounds exactly like something he would enjoy. Hannibal once served me tongue and  _joked_ about eating mine. Or so I thought, he was likely dead serious."

"And you still didn't suspect... something?"

"Well, it was not exactly my default to assume that one odd but ultimately harmless joke would be in fact indicative of... homicidal tendencies. I would opine that dear Jack Crawford holds a much greater share of blame under that reasoning."

Will's eyes darkened, his head tipped down a touch. "Hmm, as do I."

"No, you saw through the disguise first. _You_  caught him. If anything we should all be grateful to you." He hesitated, then pushed from his mind the reluctance to uncover a masked truth. "I know that I am."

"I was only doing my job. Too late."

"There's no such thing as too late."

Will shook his head dismissively, one corner of his lips downturned. An all too familiar pang of shame reared its ugly head and incited him to redirect this suddenly rather intimate conversation.

"So... the conference..."

"Yes?" Will sighed, still faintly hoping for a segue into a less sore topic of conversation — in vain, of course.

Frederick drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as if to exude a nonchalant air around him as he prepared to broach a sensitive subject he had been toying with internally for the past fifty miles.

"Does it pave the way for you to return to _that job,_ consulting for Jack and the Behavioural Analysis Unit?"

"No. I... _no_. I'm staying firmly put in my classroom."

It hadn't been an easy choice to make, as assured as Graham sounded about it now. Turning his back on the good he could be doing still felt unforgivably selfish some days but this time, Chilton interrupted his thoughts before they could get away from him.

"Good. For whatever it may be worth, I think you made the right decision. Your personal wellbeing should come first."

In the following moments Will could have made a snarky comment about how he didn’t ask for Frederick's opinion, and even how in light of their shared past his wellbeing shouldn't be any of Frederick's concern. Perhaps less than twenty-four hours prior he would have done exactly that, but not now.

"I think so too," was all he said instead.

"My priorities have shifted similarly." Turned upside down, even. "Which is why I gave up my position at the hospital."

For Frederick, nurturing the person that he was and that he wanted to be henceforth was beginning to hold greater importance than fostering a certain perception of himself in others' minds. For the first time in years, _decades_  even.

Will had been doing his own thinking about the future; what he needed from it.

"I just... I want a peaceful life where I don't feel the need to be constantly looking over my shoulder." Although he would probably be doing that for a good while still. "I _always_ wanted that, but..." 

"Somehow the work consumed you," finished Frederick.

Again, Will simply concurred. "I let it — I let _him_ chew me up and spit me back out."

It was public knowledge that Hannibal Lecter had crawled into his being and nested there, a stubborn poison, a tumour that had been excruciatingly painful to excise. What was less public was the knowledge of what was left behind. Lingering wisps of manipulation that always loomed large, threatening to bleed through into the very fabric of his identity.

Instead of pressing further on that topic, as Will may have expected from the Chilton he knew before, Frederick actually tried to console him. "If it's any comfort I intend to defame him definitively in my upcoming book, thus providing even more fuel to misled internet sleuths and armchair psychologists galore before washing my hands of the whole thing."

Will chuckled, "It is some comfort, actually. He'll hate that."

"Oh, I sincerely hope he loathes it. I'll most certainly be mentioning 'the curly fries'; thank you for that golden nugget of an anecdote." He drummed his fingers softly against the steering wheel this time, staring out across the horizon. "So, the quiet life it is, then?"

"Yeah." Glancing over at Chilton's profile for what felt like a moment too long before correcting himself, Will found himself speaking from the heart. "I dare say we deserve it, after the quite unthinkable events of the past year or so."

_We?_

In a revelation that he would never have anticipated before that day, Will arrived at the understanding that he and Chilton — the once pompous, nosy, shit-stirring Frederick Chilton — now aspired to the same private serenity in their respective lives.

To say that he was blindsided would have been an understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure why but this chapter gave me some SERIOUS block... Thank you so so much again to everyone who left a comment, your lovely words really keep me going because they show that people have actually been reading and enjoying this silly little fic <3 I really hope this chapter didn’t disappoint!
> 
> OH and... [the curly fries are a real canon thing](http://hannibal.wikia.com/wiki/Hannibal%27s_Dishes_\(TV\)?file=Hannibals_Dishes_S02E10_02.png) and I’m losing my mind over it


	5. Kansas

"How many miles to go?"

Taking a hand off the steering wheel, Frederick rubbed at his right eye before glancing upwards at the inky sky. 

"Let me check." Will lifted Frederick's phone from his lap and unlocked it, then waited for the map to update to their current location. "Fourteen. Also, um — before you snap at me let me make a disclaimer: I’m _not_ falling asleep, just going to close my eyes for a few minutes."

"Alright, do what you need to," Chilton yielded, with little fight left in him at the end of a second long day at the wheel. Still, he couldn't resist a little jab, of course he couldn't.  "All that navigating a perfectly straight interstate must have you exhausted."

Will's reluctant smirk was lost to the darkness, and he settled deeper into his seat.

"Calm down, fourteen miles will fly by."

For Frederick, they didn't.

Considering that the man was actually _asleep_ , it made no sense that this was the most he'd been distracted by Will since Baltimore. Telling himself that it was purely out of mild concern, that he was only checking that Graham was alright, he found himself stealing more than just the occasional glance at his sleeping companion. Eventually Frederick couldn’t help but notice the way his face glowed and his curls glimmered as they caught the moonlight. Since that odd moment of realisation in the morning it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that Will was... an attractive man. Unfairly attractive. Borderline _offensively_ attractive.

And, most worryingly — all the more endearing and attractive now that Frederick had grown to know him as the real, living, breathing person that he was, far more than the case study, the enigma.

During one of those times that his gaze strayed, his attention waned even more as he searched out some chewing gum in the armrest compartment between their seats to retrieve one. Will began to stir at the sound of rummaging beside him and then started from his sleep, prompting Frederick to quickly look away again.

He had taken his eyes off the road for two seconds. Three or four at the very most. When they returned all that Frederick registered was a flash of brown fur and antlers before he was swerving hard to the right and braking even harder, until the car jerked to a stop on the side of the road. 

It hadn't been fast enough.

As the clamor turned to ghostly silence, he knew that if little else. There had been a thud on the left side of the vehicle, substantial enough for them to feel, if not hear above the sound of rubber dragging against tarmac.

Will turned instinctively to check on Chilton as soon as they came to a screeching stop. The fear he found in his eyes harkened back to darker times, to finding him on his doorstep bloodied and utterly terrified. The association served not only to melt Graham’s heart but went further, a mirrored anguish clawing at his peace of mind.

"Oh god," Frederick all but whimpered, "have I killed it?"

Panic was sparking electric in his veins; it spiked his blood and travelled straight to his heart, tightening his chest to the point that he almost forgot to breathe.

"Frederick, you haven't killed it. You haven't, it's fine. I’m pretty sure it ran off without even losing its balance and falling over; you just clipped it."

Those words, softly spoken as they were, floated right past Chilton unheard. The shock had unlocked something that had been trapped within him, leaving raw vulnerability exposed.

"How can you be sure? Still — It could still be seriously injured, scared and... and dying in agony out there —"

"No, listen, come out of the car with me."

Luckily the road was bare of other vehicles that might otherwise have been coasting along, giving them a moment’s quiet and privacy. Will made his way to the front of the car and when Frederick hesitated to follow him out, he walked around to the driver’s side. He opened the door to silently coax the other man out, emoting without speaking. Together they inspected the bumper, hood of the car and the surrounding asphalt, where there were no traces of the accident to be seen at all.

"You did the best you could, it's fine," Will repeated. "Calm down. You can breathe."

Chilton turned around and allowed himself to steady his weak frame against the car, consciously breathing slow, deep breaths.

"That was such a close call, if you hadn't called out, I..." He peered past the treeline as if he might glimpse anything through the pervasive darkness. "God, I hope it's okay."

"It is, but you’re not." Will kept his distance, respecting the other man’s personal space, but perched similarly beside him on the hood of the car. "Let's just sit here for a few minutes, alright?"

A dull numbness washed over Frederick in waves until it was replaced by a vivid embarrassment that swelled in his chest until he doubled over, shoulders sinking as his body curled inward. When he gathered the courage to look up, there was something in Will’s bright eyes that began to ground him. Perhaps it was the soft touch of the hand resting on his knee that truly reassured him.

"I overreacted."

"No, you didn't."

"I did; I must look a fool."

"No, you don’t. If I didn’t know better I would have been the same way in your situation. But I promise you it's fine. A passing hit at a low speed like that couldn’t have done much harm, especially considering how fast the deer got away."

"We should get back on the road then," sighed Frederick, rubbing at his right eye once more and doing everything in his power not to rub at the left one too — the last thing he needed now was to lose a contact lens. He straightened his posture. "I’ve wasted enough of our time."

"We can stay here a little longer, if you want. Funnily enough I'm used to comforting the shell-shocked on the edges of highways. It's how I met most of my dogs."

"It's late and I'm obviously far from at full capacity, so I'll ask. Did you just call me a dog?"

"No, Frederick. Maybe this is just the way I make friends."

That earned Graham a dry chuckle and roll of Chilton's eyes. Still, for all his show Frederick could see how Will's canine friends were drawn to him — no, he could _feel_ it. He wouldn't describe it as warmth in that particular moment but an aura of tenderness certainly blossomed around the man, his compassion shining through.

* * * * *

The universe continued to be not in their favour as the night wore on.

"Will... They only have one room left."

"You have to be _joking_. Wait, not a _double?"_

"A twin, but yes, you're stuck with me again."

It went without saying that Frederick was still somewhat shaken by the accident, it had punctured whatever little of his facade had remained. Fatigue must have played a hand too, suspected Graham. This wasn’t the time for airing petty grievances and squabbling.

"I’m sure we can manage one night. You must be tired, come on."

Perhaps predictably, neither of the two was blessed with an uninterrupted, restful night’s sleep. Far from it, and yet for Frederick it wasn’t for the reasons he might have expected.

He had been aware of the fact that Will had night terrors in when he was in his hospital, but he always assumed that the night terrors were largely a result of his environment. Apparently not.

It was close to 4am when he woke fully though, and he found Graham on the balcony of their motel room with his feet up on the wicker chair where he sat, hugging his knees to keep warm.

"Will? Are you... alright?"

Frederick waited but didn’t receive a reply, because Will knew that at this point, saying that was would have been an outright, obvious lie.

"Nightmares? Sadly, I can..."

"Don't say —"

"Empathise. I doubt that comes as a surprise."

"I'd be lying if I said that it did."

"Would you like to — would it help to talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Graham took his time to reply and did so quietly, somehow hesitant without sounding unsure. "It’s alright."

"So do you mind if I talk?" asked Chilton. He pulled up another wicker chair to sit beside Will, sure not too sit too close, as if he might spook him.

"You will anyway."

Although that may have been disguised in the form of a light barb, it was a 'go ahead'; Frederick understood as much.

"True," he simply agreed. "You know, I had my qualms about the motel last night but in comparison this place isn’t... too bad. And by lunchtime tomorrow we’ll be in Denver. Finally at the conference. The highlight of a criminal psychiatrist’s year, or so it’s touted to be. Personally, I prefer my time off Christmas."

Will didn’t offer a smile at Frederick's attempt at a light jest but his jaw clenched further as he continued to fight back tears, the muscles beneath his stubbled skin rippling as they strained. That observation made Frederick immediately more aware of the ache that his own jaw was suffering from. He rubbed at the left side of his face, wincing, not even half as inconspicuous as he thought he was being.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing really, my jaw is just aching..."

"Because you fell asleep with your denture still in?"

"Probab– How did you know that I have a —"

"I heard you take it out and put it in its case last night, and I saw the case in the morning, too."

"You can take the agent out of the FBI, but not the FBI out of the agent. I’m not at all used to sleeping with the denture in."

"Then why were you?"

Backed into a corner, Chilton was forced to put all his energy into preventing any emotion from seeping into his voice.

"To spare you the sight of me without it."

"Do you honestly think I would care about that?"

" _I do._ I care about having to face the look in yo— in _people’s_ eyes when they see."

"I wouldn't be... of course I wouldn’t..."

Frederick scoffed under his breath at that consolation, knowing exactly the word Will was tiptoeing around. "Disgust is trivial. It is not disgust I dread most, but pity.”

"And what if you see admiration?"

“There's no need to  _mock_ me.”

"I'm not." 

A heavy silence fell over them once more, during which they both were grateful for being sat beside each other in a way that enabled them to look out across the industrial landscape rather than directly at each other. Frederick lowered his gaze to his hands as he wrung them, startled to hear Graham's voice again as soon as he did.

"I know it hur– it hurts to be victimised," Will whispered, deep contemplation passing over his features. "Especially if you can't help seeing yourself in a rather different light."

He was right on the money and it earned him a side-eye of reluctant admission from Chilton — _yes_ , his own missteps certainly played on his mind. But there was more to it. That much was given away by the lilt in Will’s voice, the slight shift in his tone — in his own peculiar little way, Will was beginning to open up.

"We aren't talking solely about me now, are we?" asked Frederick, aiming to confirm his suspicions.

"Maybe not."

Graham may well have hesitated but the absence of outright denial in his answer gave him away; some part of him, however small, was reaching out in the darkness. It wouldn’t go ignored.

"You're right; it is often a far greater challenge to dismiss your own inner critic than those external. Would  _that_  be why your address at the conference is weighing on your mind?"

After all, Graham had clearly never been one to care how the masses perceived him — it had to be an internal struggle that he was still grappling with. Frederick was sure of it and right he was, making it Will's turn to give the side eye at how accurate his suspicions were.

"Signing up for it was a bad idea," he admitted.

"There must be a reason you once thought the opposite."

"It was supposed to be a way of drawing a line under that painful chapter of my life, but I seem to feel as through I’m willingly salting my own wounds."

"My company must not help. For the past two whole days a constant reminder of a time in your life you wish only to forget."

"You’re not —" Will refuted hurriedly "It isn't that. It’s... it’s _inside_ me."

"I won’t pretend to understand the complexity of your troubles. Nor do I intend to pry in an attempt to. But I know what it is to grapple with the unshakable. Day after day. A malaise that digs its heels right into the foundation of who you are, rotting the roots of your being."

 _Trauma_.

For as much as the word was bandied about, it didn’t even need to be spoken aloud here, where it truly applied. Insinuation alone felt like a monumental admission, a bold disclosure of otherwise immensely private weakness.

"Isn’t it in your job description to believe in healing?" wondered Graham. "In rehabilitation or at the very least, reparation?"

"Well... yes," Chilton admitted reluctantly. "But I believe I have earned the right to experience disillusionment at times. I am not speaking as a professional here, but from real experience. Healing isn’t as straightforward a path as even the most highly respected peer-reviewed literature would have us believe."

"You can say that again." Will sighed and relaxed his shoulders a touch, defeat carried in the slump of his spine. For the first time in this conversation, he continued to divulge without any prompting. Getting comfortable. "Speaking about him in a purely professional capacity was supposed to help me break those final threads that still tie me to h— the past, but... I'm not strong enough to."

"Now, that... that is _absurd_. How can you not be? You were strong enough to survive him and —"

"I _survived_ because he never wanted me dead."

"No, but he wanted you under his... sick spell. Instead, you dared to play him at his own game and beat him, too."

"Did I win? It doesn’t feel that way. My sense of self, my entire identity was consumed by his  _game."_

"I beg to differ; I see who you are fairly well."

"What does that mean?"

Only half registering Graham’s words, Frederick's mind was already drifting back to their last encounter before this trip, one that he himself had played very little part in. In that moment he began to fully comprehend the recent revelation that Will had visited him numerous times in hospital. 

Absolutely no one else had. Not a soul.

None of his so called ‘colleague friends’ that he’d spent hours upon hours networking with at overly ostentatious events, forsaking any semblance of an opportunity for a life outside his profession. But Will had been there, at the bedside of his former captor because he knew that Chilton had been wronged, too.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, and not only through your unique presence of mind." Frederick’s assertions carried a strange quality of soft emotion paired with form resolve, one that struck Will right in his chest. "Time and time again you have _chosen_ to be compassionate in a cruel world and therein lies an equally important, _admirable_ strength."

The carefully considered words hadn't missed their mark, that much was evident in Will's softened demeanour.

"I don’t recognise the man you describe. I made so many careless mistakes."

Chilton’s pursed lips twisted into a wry, barely contained expression. _Oh_ , was he familiar with mistakes.

"I don’t doubt that you made mistakes; the mark of being human. But not once did you stop caring. You speak as though you yourself were never personally destroyed by him, never strategically manipulated into your own... moral lapses by someone who had a duty of care towards you. Yes, it hurts to be victimised, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be demonised by yourself either. When will you admit that you suffered, too? You are more than a victim; a survivor."

A faint echo of Frederick’s impassioned rant lingered in the air between them, their gravity filtering into Will’s consciousness gradually.

"This certainly doesn’t sound like the Doctor Chilton I once knew."

"Did the two of us ever really know each other? Or did prejudice and rushes to judgement cloud our vision? Accompanied by our time-hardened masks, of course."

Will didn’t answer; Frederick continued.

"Perhaps that doesn’t matter anymore. My past self is certainly better left there, in the past. His... _chapter_  in the story of my life changed me, and not trivially." The very fabric of his identity had been stretched and reshaped under duress. "Do you ever feel the same way?"

"Like you said, there are some things that simply unshakable."

"There are. Lifelong burdens. But I’m asking about being changed _for the better_. Don’t you ever consider _that?"_

"For the better?" Will echoed with an eyebrow quirked, not that Chilton saw it. He paused for thought. For one, he had long since noticed that Chilton certainly _had_ changed for better in some ways, quite remarkably too. But when it came to himself — "The thought never crossed my mind."

"Perhaps one of these days you should allow it to. What use would there be in so determinedly reclaiming the agency that he stole from us if it was not then put to good use? What better way to spite him?"

"Hmm."

"Why do I feel as though my words have only served to dishearten you further?"

"No... no, they haven’t. You have a point; I could be using the past to my advantage, as some sort of catalyst for growth." 

"Will, you're still not grasping what I mean." Frederick dared to reach out and rest his palm lightly on Graham's shoulder, prompting him to finally meet and actually hold his gaze. "You already _have_ grown from it. I mean, how else could the two of us be sat here in this way?"

Will didn’t dare ask exactly what the other man meant by that, but perhaps that was secondary anyway. Somehow the act of those words being spoken into existence eased the wrought tension, assisted in no small part by the gentleness in Chilton's touch, the utterly sincere softness in his eyes.

Despite how gradually it had crept up on them, this fragile and suprisingly intimate moment between the two was shattered in an instant. A crash of thunder boomed and the heavens opened up above them, saving Will from having to formulate a direct reply to words that had struck his heart and rendered him speechless.

"We should go —"

"Yes, uh, back inside," mumbled Frederick, scrambling to get out of his chair.

"I’ve kept you up for far too long."

"No, no. I just... I hope... you can manage to fall asleep again."

They made their way back into the motel room, and it was only when Chilton was about to turn off his bedside lamp and lie back down in his bed that Will spoke again, unexpectedly.

"Frederick."

"Hmm?"

"Take your denture out, for Christ's sake."

"It’s fi—" Chilton was interrupted by the exasperated, impatient — yet impossibly soft —look on Will’s face where he stood across from him. "Okay."

As he did so, he was hyperaware of every move he made and all that surrounded around him. The steady tick of the clock on the wall. The light rain shower pattering against the windows. The momentary scratch of clipped fingernails against teeth as he reached into his mouth. Frederick loathed that he had to practically snarl to pull out the denture and its associated metal plate, playing right up the monster-like appearance that it garnered him.

"Go ahead, stare, get it out of your system."

Graham didn't look over but tried not to make a point of that either, simply going about his own business of placing his glasses aside and folding up the blanket he’d just been wrapped in.

But Chilton wasn’t going to let the mafter slide so easily; he provoked him to act.

"It’s worse when people don’t even dare to look."

At that, Will finally did.

"So?" With his lips pressed firmly together, Frederick kept his own gaze focused on placing the denture into its case.

"It healed well."

"You know that’s not what I’m asking."

"There’s no right answer to what you're asking; I won’t facilitate your self-punishment."

Shaking his head side to side, Frederick chuckled almost silently. "I sincerely hope that you can see the irony in that."

"I do." A pause, a final sigh of exasperation before the awaited admission — "I suppose we both have something to learn here."

So that was that. They each climbed into their respective sides of the bed, drowned by a heavy silence laden with racing thoughts and racing hearts. In a half-asleep unthinking daze, Frederick began to reach out to place a comforting hand on Will’s arm once more, actually grazing the duvet before he snapped out of it and retreated again.

When the rising sun awakened Will from his slumber, he immediately felt... different. Not only different in himself but he most certainly viewed Frederick through a new lens too. He had opened up to Graham without fear or the desire of anything in return, simply through genuine human connection.

Will had forgotten what that felt like... Had he ever really known at all?

"About last night —" he began tentatively, before worrying his lower lip to buy himself time "— I wanted to say... I appreciate — You really..."

 _Fuck_ , words well and truly escaped him.

"It was _nothing._ Vague reassurances," asserted Chilton hurriedly, unable to think of much else but the fact that his denture was missing from his mouth and the unpleasant sight that it would have left behind. "But I am glad you are fee—"

Frederick made a move to turn around but he was held back by a hand clasped around his wrist. He was forced to face Will again, who confessed:

"No. It was... it meant _something_ to me. Far more than you know. You've made me feel..." he trailed off, struggling to communicate the unfamiliar emotions that were stirring in his chest.

Frederick saw one of those in his eyes — real admiration, the same admiration that Will had spoken of the night before. He didn’t recognise it at first. For as much as he might have craved admiration, years — decades — had passed since he had been directed it in such a pure form. For who he truly was, not who he feigned to be.

Frederick had forgotten what that felt like... Had he ever really known at all?

As the thoughts, mostly questions, raced through Chilton's mind, Will searched for an answer of sorts in his eyes. When he felt he had found his quarry, felt something indescribable bloom between their locked gazes, Graham leaned in.

For Frederick, the first sensation he experienced was rough stubble scratching his lip, then it being captured between Will's, tugged on gently in a way that made his heart race. Eyes widened in shock and time slowed down, each and every second lasting for hours. In spite of his surprise, Frederick found himself returning the kiss without a moment of hesitation. A voice of self-preservation more than reason rang out in the walls of his mind, telling him to _stop,_ to break away.

He didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my update schedule for this fic has been more than erratic BUT if anyone's still here the good news is that the final chapter is one that I've always had planned in the most detail and, well... I'm at 2k on it already so it should be up soon (!!!)
> 
> I have a bunch of WIPs on the burner so... that's another motivation for getting this done... fingers crossed friends!


	6. Colorado

Four hours.

Two hundred and forty minutes.

That wasn’t so long, was it?

Frederick’s eyes flitted between the clock and speedometer displays on the dashboard.

He could do it. He could get through the next four hours — the final four of their journey — without combusting from sheer awkwardness and embarrassment...

Or so he desperately hoped.

With an absence of conscious thought, his foot placed a touch more pressure on the gas pedal. The needle on the speedometer only turned up a measly three miles per hour before Frederick was forced to ease off again, wary of the speed limit.

Four hours.

* * * * *

_An hour earlier:_

Will was nothing short of dizzy from their kiss, but he snapped out of his daze when he noticed Frederick looking at him as though he had just grown a second head.

 _What_ was going on? Wait, he couldn’t have read him wrong, could he?

"Um —"

"Where did that —" Chilton cleared his throat. "Uh, I didn't..."

"I... _fuck_ , I'm sorry — I thought you had wanted that too."

The problem was that Frederick really _had_ wanted it, that much was evidenced to himself by the fervent manner in which he had kissed Will back.

Long moments passed before Frederick realised he was still silent, that he hadn't actually voiced that reply. None other came either.

"I'll, uh..." Will gestured towards the door, turning on his heels, "go and load the car."

"Will, wait! So help me God, stop right there."

"What?"

"W-why? Why on _Earth_ did you kiss me?" Chilton had his hands on his hips and a blatant refusal to feel embarrassment glinting in his eyes. Once more he chose to gloss over the fact that he had kissed back immediately, nothing short of wantonly, egging Will on.

All the while Chilton's insistence on getting to the bottom of this matter sent Will's stomach swooping once more.

 _‘You kissed me back!’_ his inner voice exclaimed, but not boldly enough to actually reach his lips.

"I was... swept away in the moment. We’ve spent a lot of time in close proximity these past few days and — Clearly it was a mistake, so I'm sorry."

Yet again, Frederick didn’t actually say what he was thinking. That he had felt something too, that he _did_ — but more than infatuated, at this particular moment he felt weak and vulnerable. It was miserable. This whole situation had to be some sort of cruel joke, if not exacted by Will himself then the work of the universe at large.

"Can we please forget it?" murmured Will, eyes darting everywhere but on the other man. "As though it never happened at all? God, I really have no idea why I..."

Why had he exposed himself so fully? What was it about these past two days spent with Frederick that had turned him so direct, so  _open_ _?_

"Yes, okay — Yes, let’s just go back to how things were."

Except they couldn't. That aim was impossible after what had just passed between them. Which was why now, sat in the car, they had been engaged in a continuous silence even longer than when they’d first set off two days ago.

Will picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt sleeve, trying to occupy his mind with thoughts that weren’t directly related to their present situation. He failed, of course.

After all, he had gone out on a limb... and had it chopped off rather unceremoniously. It had been stupid, really, thinking he could find comfort in the other man, in their shared experiences. Closure.

As if it could ever be that simple.

The time they had spent together had helped Will let go of some long-entrenched pain but now?Now it just felt like raking over old wounds, for both of them. Opening doors that were far more difficult to close.

Still, surprisingly, it was Will who first broke the heavy silence between them, coming up to an hour and half into their day’s drive.

"Are we going to sit in silence for the whole ride or is one of us actually going to say something?”

Frederick’s lips pressed together into a tight line, then twitched into a contained expression as he replied.

"I fear that if I break the silence, something will happen. Although I am unsure what that would be and certainly not in the mood for futile conflict."

Will conceded; "Silence is safer, then."

That much they could agree on, though this was quite the anticlimax to what Graham had thought could have symbolised a big step forward on his part. He lacked the courage to dare to push the matter any further.

So this was how it would end.

For the few words that the two were compelled to exchange at gas stations and the like, the formality that they had clung to tens of hours ago was renewed. In fact, it felt markedly stiffer and more unnatural now. Certain acts just couldn’t be undone, words couldn’t be unsaid.

Only at their final state border did the atmosphere shift for Frederick, and it did so dramatically. The sign marking their entrance into Colorado flipped a switch inside of him. Now the display of the satnav on his phone taunted him; counting down to their arrival at their destination and subsequent parting of ways in a form of torture.

Frederick knew that — _hypothetically_ —he would have to be the one to broach the topic of this strange connection between them because Will had already put himself out there once by kissing him and that had clearly  _not_ panned out well.

He was damned if he understood why, or even _what_ , but he felt something too.

It was the sight of the sign marking their entrance into the city of Denver that set Frederick's heart racing with a slow crescendo. He checked the satnav on his phone which by now was propped up on the dashboard, another way to avoid conversation.

He had twenty minutes to say something.

Ten minutes.

Then five.

A restless tapping of his foot.

Four.

Hands gripped the steering wheel harder, Chilton’s knuckles whitening.

Three.

A sideways glance.

Two.

The soft skin of his lips was alight once more, as if they had been kissed only seconds and not hours before.

_One minute._

Momentous words perched right on the tip of Frederick's tongue. Their exact nature was unknown to him as of yet but he could _feel_ them, feel himself losing balance at some kind of tipping point.

But before he knew it, his phone was beeping to alert him that they had arrived at their destination. For better or for worse, his time was up.

"Finally," Will breathed out, louder than he had expected. "Thank you for the lift."

Frederick gave only a slight, stiff nod in response. The two unloaded their luggage and walked into the hotel foyer before checking in side by side at adjacent counters.

Their suites happened to be on opposite sides of the building, accessed by different elevators. At the top of the steps leading up to the mezzanine where their paths were to diverge, they lingered. They lingered perhaps in hesitation or perhaps simply in anticipation of a farewell, a finite end to this bizarre chapter.

"So."

Chilton nodded curtly once more, then occupied his gaze with the tawdry patterns of the carpet at his feet.

"So," echoed Will. "I’ll see—"

"No. Wait. We cannot just... leave it this way."

"No? I’m fairly certain I've embarrassed myself enough."

And yet Frederick truly didn’t want him to leave, for some reason. He hadn’t the slightest idea how the situation would unfold from there but suddenly was sure of that much at least. 

"Please. Help me understand what in fresh hell has been happening today."

Will paused to think then, critical moments playing over and over in his mind. "Do you really want the truth?"

"I hear honesty is the best policy."

"In that case... I can't bring myself to genuinely regret what happened this morning. _It_ was the only way I could find to express that — that over the course of this trip I have come to feel something rather tangible for you."

Something that Graham suspected would prove to be far, far more enduring than a heat-of-the-moment kiss. Something that had burrowed deeper into his desolate heart than he might ever have imagined was possible.

Nonetheless, it was still disbelief above all else that ruled Frederick's mind.

"You — In..." He twisted his wrist to check his watch, quickly running the numbers in his head, "forty-nine hours?"

"In forty-nine hours." Will shrugged as if to dismiss the monumental nature of his confession, only to then solidify it further. "If you're thinking that this seems unlike me you’d be right." He hadn’t felt anything like _this_ in longer than he could remember, such infallible attraction on so many levels. "It’s unfamiliar but as far as I can tell, _real."_

Stomach churning, Frederick let that last sentence ring out in his ears undisturbed, finding a mirrored sentiment in himself. As he turned towards the other man, he could no longer deny the presence of some kind of connection. It begged the question, one that perhaps should have remained in Chilton's head but instead flew from his lips.

"How? Why?"

"Damned if _I_ know; I certainly wasn’t seekingthis. And yet it seems as though I’ve begun to... allow myself to want."

The profundity of that even more intimate admission wasn’t lost on Chilton. "But why _me?"_

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of starting to sound like a broken record but this clarification was more than just important, it was absolutely vital.

"I’ve been wondering the same. For one, I’ve come to admire your  _joie de vivre._ After encountering enough tragedies to turn the best of us cynical, you still have this... fire inside. You're _unashamedly_  alive, leading the life you choose and... I don’t know, it’s more inspiring than perhaps you realise."

"My _obstinacy_ is attractive to you?" Frederick sputtered, bewildered. "My pettiness?"

"Call it what you will. It's your fight. And your compassion, try as you might to mask it with a brash and distanced exterior."

Will hadn’t felt this strongly about anyone in longer than he could clearly remember. Perhaps he never had, not in this way. It made putting himself out there warm and exhilarating, the sweetest effect of adrenaline on his body for years.

“I was under the impression that my very presence is a reminder of the weight of your guilt."

"I hope by now you know that isn’t the case. Being around you has felt... more than just cathartic — _fuck_ , I've smiled more in the last two days than in the two months before. Maybe even more than in the last two _years_." Only then did Graham pause to actually think over his words. "Christ, I don’t mean to make this sound so dramatic."

"That particular ship has long sailed."

Only now did Will manage to meet Chilton’s eyes, a little taken aback by what he saw there. But honesty seemed to be reaching his lips easily now, he couldn’t think clearly enough to lie, to be guarded.

"Then to hell with tiptoeing about. Kissing you, Frederick, felt — actually, it felt simple. After the shambles of our former lives it felt uncomplicated. The _world_ felt uncomplicated for those few seconds and that's the extent of my understanding. It was relief... that constant crushing weight we both live with, easing from my shoulders."

Following that particular confession, Will felt compelled to look away from the other man once more.

"Y– But you’re...  _Will Graham._ And I —"

"Don’t — please don’t say my name like that. Have you really felt nothing at all, this whole time?"

"Us... there being something _like that_ between the two of us, _of all people_ , it doesn't make the slightest bit of sense."

When faced with such an evasive non-answer, Will shrugged his shoulders defeatedly, head cocked to one side. Frederick wasn’t flat out saying he didn’t feel the same way. Will knew exactly what it was to close off like that. He’d made a tired habit of it.

"I’ve spent years overthinking, talking myself out of any opportunity for real connection. I know all about using isolation as a means of protection, and not only protection but... self-punishment. Through the years it grows increasingly comfortable to reside with an ornate blanket of thorns draped around yourself. But the thorns aren’t loyal; they don’t discriminate. They stab at _you_  just as much as those you aim to protect yourself from."

"You do _not_  understand what I..."

"Then let me tell you what I know for sure I do understand. You’ve shown me that... we’re faced with two options here. We can allow what happened to us become us entirely, to define us, or we can use it to make a change for the better."

"Believe me, I am  _trying_ to do better..."

Their gazes met and their faces fell.

"I know." Will's previous determination was threatened by overwhelming sympathy at the struggle plainly visible in the other man’s eyes. Was _he_  actually the painful reminder for _Frederick?_ "I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he continued, backing down. "If the spark and desire to explore it aren’t mutual there’s nothing left for me to say but sorry, again."

Except the spark _was_ mutual. The desire too; Frederick knew that the rush of feeling it brought — a slowly swelling wave of devotion — was going to be either the end or the making of him.

But now Will went on, his voice flat but far from distanced. "I'll see you around, Frederick. Thank you. I mean it, for everything. I won’t forget this journey easily."

_Neither would Frederick._

Darting down the interstate with the stereo turned up high. The soundtrack to their trip, the old 80s mix that stuck at the second verse of _Wicked Game_ invariably. Bad jokes with witty responses, their snappy back-and-forth.

Gas station meals scarfed down under the searing sun. Motel rooms that became far more eventful than expected for the wrong reasons, then the right ones. Late night and early morning conversations that meandered into uncertain territory and yet somehow left them with a lasting feeling of hope and strength. Even — dare he think it — _joy_.

Although the past gripped Chilton for a good few moments it was now the hazy image of a future that flashed before his eyes, and profoundly so. A future where, perhaps, this unfamiliar connection could blossom into something utterly wonderful and precious.

"Will, uh..."

Frederick thought about going back to the cold and empty house where a lifeless silence echoed through the walls.

Alone.

Again.

Indefinitely.

He would slip back into the same cycle of discontent and unfulfillment that had owned him for decades. And _God,_  he had been the one preaching about living the life you really wanted for yourself, hadn’t he?

What he wanted now was clear, a startlingly crystal-clear apparition in his mind. All that remained now was to chase it into existence.

"With my car being here in Denver now I have no choice but to drive it back east and so... would you, perhaps, like... a ride again?"

Will beamed inwardly, immediately understanding the sentiment behind that gesture. Still, for the moment he remained tentative, if hopeful all the same.

"Don’t worry about it; I have a return flight booked and they should be running as normal by then."

"Right, but, uh... it isn't a bother, I was wondering if — well, perhaps the two of us could... spend some more time..."

Frederick blushed and leaned in, his gaze falling quite blatantly to Graham's lips. The hue of crimson that bloomed on his cheeks only deepening when a confident kiss was placed on those lips, parted in surprise.

"I was really starting to think you’d never ask," Will mumbled against them.

"N-no," Chilton stuttered, the hallmarks of confusion dissipating from his ever expressive features and being replaced by mild irritation in two seconds flat. "No, you _knew_ I would and you still chose to torture me as I did. Smug bastard."

"Seems as though you’d better get used to it."

"Then you can get used to my _allegedly_ monstrous snoring." _Fuck_. "Oh, um — I didn’t mean —"

"Are we sharing a room again, Fred?"

Will’s jesting smile put Frederick at ease but the glint of flirtation in his eyes stirred something else within him. He steadied himself with a deep inhale and long exhale, the corners of his lips tugging up into a controlled smirk.

"I most certainly do _not_  put out on the first date, what do you take me for?"

Funnily enough, in that exact moment Frederick had half a mind to drag Graham upstairs to whichever of their rooms were closest and put out like he never had before.

Will shrugged. "Well, I’m — I'm in this for the long haul."

The intersection of Frederick’s own sudden wave of desire with Will's bluntness broke something inside of him that for a few seconds he had forgotten was even there.

 _‘The long haul.’_  The three little words rang over and over in his mind and he stepped back. A fraction of a step, then a full one.

It had been a long time since Frederick had been to bed with someone, far longer in a truly romantic context. The prospect of being unmasked by sincere intimacy was terrifying, as bone-chilling as it was enticing.

"Fuck, Will, I— I don’t know if I can— I’m not good at these— It has been—"

_I'm scared._

"I can't just wave away your worries. I won’t lie; I’m barely short of terrified myself," revealed Will in a shaky voice, tucking a stray lock of hair back behind Frederick’s ear, rough fingertips grazing bare skin. "That doesn’t help, does it?"

Frederick placed his own hand over where Will’s other lay on his chest, feeling a deep  _thump-thump-thump_  that couldn’t be distinguished as belonging to only one of them.

"I want you, _this_ , God I _do_..."

"— but it could be utterly doomed. I know. It— but it could also be... _good_. It could be precisely what the two of us never realised we always needed."

"You said that I was the changed one, throwing caution to the wind and chasing the things I really wanted, but listen to yourself."

"I'm like this _because_ of you. There’s no script to follow here; I know we'll make mistakes but let’s make them together. Let us pluck the thorns from each other’s skin and kiss the scars away. Maybe we can do this by taking it one little step at a time." Will paused for breath and studied Frederick’s features closely. "What are you thinking?"

"I am... wondering what I stand to lose."

"I suspect that, like myself, it's very little. So surely it has to be  _worth_ a try. You, you —  _You_ make me want to try. The fear is still there, yes and it may be for a while, but it... it pales besides you."

Tearful, Frederick almost gawped. "Do you really mean that? That I..."

"Would I be stood here otherwise? After everything we have been through in the past two days, it won’t be easy to get rid of me."

"Who knows? I... I might not want to."

Frederick needed convincing no longer. Possiblity simmered in the blood that coursed through his veins; this could be everything they had never let themselves want. "You... the way you seem so sure — you make me want to try, too."

Will reached out to graze Frederick’s arm, the nervous tension in his spine releasing, rolling off his body in waves. Half frowns melted into tentative smiles and athough their hearts were still racing, they slowed a fraction.

"So."

"So."

"You said something about a first date?" recalled Will.

"Right, uh... would you join me for a drink at the bar?"

A flash of Chilton's former self manifested then, not so far as cocky now but quietly confident in his desires. Will truly would never expected the inner warmth that pleased smile gave him now.

"Make it two and you have a deal. I’ll just drop off my bags and meet you there."

"No, wait,  _wait."_

Graham could have sworn that his heart stopped dead in his chest for a moment then, skipping more than one beat.

"Again?"

_Why? What problem could have arisen now? What was left for them to —_

Frederick's answer came in the form of a kiss, this time without an ounce of hesitation on either side — once Will realised that it had been his turn to be played with now.

"Just uh, sealing the deal." Unable or perhaps simply unwilling to resist, he stole another kiss. Then one more. "Alright, now you can go."

Will was similarly reluctant to shatter the uncomplicated comfort of this precious moment but he knew that their short separation would hold a promise of so much more to come — so he did. As he stepped back it was their linked hands that were the last parts of their bodies to fall away from each other.

"Consider the deal sealed," he said with a completely unbridled smile. "I haven't had a drink in months though so I'll have to take you for their oldest single malt."

Frederick's eyes sparkled as he mirrored Will's grin. "Of course; and a double too, I bet."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> come yell at me about these two dorks on tumblr [@xevinx](http://xevinx.tumblr.com)


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